


that's what you call the ring dang doo

by ShipperTrash140109



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Public Masturbation, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 12:51:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19251571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipperTrash140109/pseuds/ShipperTrash140109
Summary: “Ring dang do me Arthur”“How about I ring dang don’t?”akasean is being a little schnit and arthur isnt having it





	that's what you call the ring dang doo

**Author's Note:**

> you whaddup its me again, sorry i took so long to write something else, been busy as heck and writers block is fucking me six ways to sunday rn. if it's any consolation this fic is about twice as long as my usual fic lengths (but quantity dont exactly = quality rip). anyway, hope yall enjoy, feel free to scream with me about sean and arthur down below or on my tumblr (pls i crave that content so much and i need ideas)

“Ring dang do me Arthur”

“How about I ring dang don’t?”

Sean was drunk. Again. And people were singing. Again. It was a cheery atmosphere, and with Sean all happy and flirty like he was being it was tough to be irritated, but even still, having the younger man try to sit on his lap and embarrass them in front of the whole camp was just that bit far enough to make Arthur prickle.

“Off me you goddamn fool!” he spoke with a bit more of a growl than he would’ve liked, but Sean was stubborn sober, let alone absolutely wasted. The ginger stumbled as Arthur abruptly stood up, evicting him from the older man’s lap. Sean bared his teeth, the gap where a front tooth used to be looking like the void in the dark, cursing Arthur for being a grumpy old ‘barsterd.’

Arthur rolled his eyes, backing away from where the Irishman was stumbling towards him, waving his bottle and blabbering on with an accent so thick that he was hardly speaking English anymore. Pulling a bottle of whiskey out of one of the many boxes around camp, Arthur stalked off to his tent to avoid further commotion with the overzealous drunk.

He watched the others celebrate, he wasn’t exactly sure what they were celebrating, perhaps Charles brought them a huge dinner that’ll last a week, perhaps Micah got eaten by a bear, perhaps there was no reason at all, folks just liked having fun. Arthur brought the bottle to his lips, head slowly getting filled by a quiet buzz and the sound of singing. He zoned out for a moment, entranced by the sounds, relaxed and left pleasantly alone.

Relaxed up until he picked up on a commotion towards a quieter part of the camp, and by the angry yelling alone he could tell Sean was involved. Oh well, the peace was good whilst it last, but now Arthur had to reel his boy in again. As he so often has to.

“I catch yeh looking at him again, I’ll get the tongs out boy, fucking O’Driscoll making eyes at Arthur Morgan. You’re lucky he didn’t let Bill have yeh, I would’ve, should’ve handed yeh over when I heard yeh say ‘Colm’ smarmy bastard!” Sean threw his bottle to the ground, but all it did was drop dully onto the grass, barely a thump to be heard over the singing at the main campfire. Kieran had jumped up from where he’d previously been laying against his rock. Arthur could hardly hear his defence over Sean’s carrying on as he marched over, both men too caught up in what the other was doing to take any notice of the older gun slinger stalking towards them in the dark.

“Please Sean, I swear I wasn’t- I was jus minding my own- I swear! I don’t want to start nothin’”

“I saw yeh! Today, and yesterday, and the day before, you’ve been sizing him up since he first dragged your sorry arse down that mountain!” Sean straightened his back, he was barely a scratch taller than Kieran, but with the way the dark-haired man cowered away, you’d think Sean was a giant. “If you even think of looking, or talking, or breathing in his direction, O’Driscoll, I’ll-”

“Sean! Leave him the hell alone!” Arthur barked as he sped up the last few steps to shove between them, his shoulder bumping against Kieran’s chest, the light knock enough to send the scared younger man to the ground. Arthur and Sean’s eyes met, and Arthur was again reminded why he had such a soft spot for him. He was angry, he was so angry, you could see it in those eyes, how they practically lit up with vicious excitement at the thought of a scrap. He shoved a hand into the lean man’s chest and Sean growled something in an accent so thick Arthur couldn’t begin to translate before the redhead pushed him, and Arthur was ready to defend himself from a following fist when Sean suddenly gave up and stalked off away from Arthur and Kieran. That…wasn’t good.

“Thank you, Mr Arthur Morgan sir, I swear I ain’t doing nothing- I-I don’t know what he was talking about” Kieran stammered as Arthur helped him to his feet, Arthur didn’t respond, just nodded and pressed his lips together before backing away from the younger man. He knew he’d done something wrong, he didn’t think Sean would’ve dare hurt him, but he also hadn’t expected him to storm off like a kicked puppy. He hesitates a moment before following in the direction that the redhead had gone. It wasn’t guilt that drove him to follow Sean- no of course it wasn’t, it was… a vested interest in… his future sex life- If he let Sean go off and mope he might decide to go back to Karen, and that, well that wouldn’t be very good for Arthur, or Karen, or Karen’s liver.

He finds Sean lurking behind the wagon attached to Arthurs tent, the redhead moodily sipping on a bottle and staring off somewhere in the far distance, when he hears the brunet coming he barely looks twice before turning his back, grumbling to himself into his bottle. He’d lost his coat sometime between storming off and coming to rest against the wagon, he looked smaller without the bulky garment, his vest doing little to hide his narrow chest and slim hips, Arthur had once had the misfortune of assuming that the other was physically weak because of it. He’d quickly learnt his lesson.

Arthur manages to sidle up beside the redhead, a feat he’s surprised to accomplish, especially with how he can feel the air thicken with tension that rolls off the younger man in waves. “Sean, you know I couldn’t let you kill Kieran, and you know I couldn’t let you fool around like that in front of the camp” Arthur isn’t going to apologise, that’s not his forte and he’s not going to let Sean get away with being reckless.

“m not apologising for shit, maybe if you’d just taken me to bed and fucked me before I have a chance to fuck anything up I wouldn’t have gone for Kieran, but you were too busy being ashamed o’ me” Arthur frowned at his words, head tipping to the side. Sean was jealous- of what or who? Lord knows, he was feeling neglected for sure, even if it was for no good reason. It was almost enough to make Arthur laugh.

“Aww, Sean, were you feeling neglected? I’m sorry boah…” he hummed in amusement, and moved to stand in front of and to the side of Sean, his chest against a scrawny arm and his mouth centimetres from Sean’s ear. “You know you’re mine, you know I don’t much care for nobody else” he whispers, voice low and husky, and Sean, in his drunk state, his defences low and patience even lower, forgets his problem with the older man.

His eyes slide shut and Arthur can hear him swallow thickly, his bottle dropping to the ground and hands hanging limply at his sides as he lets the brunet press into him, breath him in, mar his skin with goose-bumps at the feeling of stubble against his pale neck, lips whispering possessive, dirty things into his ear that make his loose pants that bit tight. “Kieran got no ass, doesn’t have the same fire to him” Arthur breathes, hand finding the firmness between the other man’s legs, pulling a hiss from Sean’s throat and teasing his legs to open as they always do around Arthur Morgan.

“You been looking for one?” Sean breathes, voice straining to sound joking but it’s a hard feat when there’s firm fingers tightening and loosening around his needy crotch.

Arthur doesn’t respond, and it sets Sean’s veins on fire, he growls low in his throat, hand slipping behind the brunet’s head and making a dive for his neck, teeth bared, only to find himself slammed back against the wagon. “Cheeky bastard” Arthur mumbles, using his body to press Sean hard against the wood, trapping him right where he is as he slips a hand into the smaller man’s trousers. “You’re reckless, and stupid, you’re gonna end up with a bullet in your brain one day.”

“The only thing I wanna be filled with in the near future is your cock, cowboy” Sean chuckles, straining to push a leg up enough to get into the space between Arthur’s thighs. The comment sends a harsh shock through the older man, and he feels his skin grow hot, but they can’t tonight, tonight it has to be quick and quiet, people were wandering around tonight, too many risks.

“You manage to survive until tomorrow without picking a fight you can’t win, and you might just get your wish, ginger” he promises, and after spitting into his hand, he lets his fingers tighten around Sean’s length, the flesh firm and hot in his hands. The effect is instantaneous, and Sean lets a hand fly to his mouth, brow furrowing and body going tense as he tries to contain his relief at the touch. Arthur plants his lips to the hollow of his throat, tonguing at the soft skin, hand running in long, even strokes with a light enough grasp to make Sean squirm.

“Go any slower, and you’ll be the fight I pick” he growls, hips trying desperately to buck into the grip, desperate for any and all friction he can get. Arthur’s hands are so rough and firm around him, and each stroke feels like both torture and treasure. He’d never been much interested in blokes until he met Arthur, sure, he _fancies_ blokes, but not to this degree, not to this calibre where he’s addicted to the man like a sad man to the drink.

“Don’t think you’d be able to win that one, Sean” Arthur hums in amusement, palms and fingers dragging slow and harsh up the redhead’s length, ripping a long, low groan from him as he went, hands flying to grip at Arthurs collar and the elbow of the hand holding him in such sweet pain. His fingertips press hard into the skin of Arthur’s arm, Sean’s whole-body rigid with tension, every inch that that hand slides sending a shock of electricity up his back. He begs for Arthur to stop killing him like this and the older man chuckles, leaning in to drag his teeth along the line of Sean’s throat, his windpipe and Adam’s apple jutting out from under the pale skin as he tips his head back, lip in his teeth and eyes squeezed shut.

Considering how risky this all is, Arthur is surprising even himself with his own recklessness for dragging it out like this. But Sean is just so remarkable when he’s desperate like this, when he’s made to feel so needy, it tells him he’s done wrong when he’s treated like this. It was the only way to properly punish the boy, Arthur’s found, and even then, it only left him coming back for more.

He gives the redhead’s neck a nice good bite, teeth scraping along the sensitive skin, Arthur’s almost completely sure folk will assume it was left by Karen, and Karen will probably get so drunk tonight that she’ll just assume it was her work if she ever saw it (fat chance of that considering she avoided Sean like he had the plague when sober). He pulled back a moment to admire his work, a ring of red forming where his teeth had been. His eyes drifted up to watch Sean, watch him as his hand finally sped up, the way his breath hitched, mouth falling open, his grip on Arthurs elbow almost unbearably tight.

Arthur fell forwards against him, he himself rutting against the other’s scrawny leg in time with the movements of his hand, Arthur reaching behind to grab a handful of the mans behind, using his hold as leverage as he continues to grind up against Sean’s thigh. The latter bucked his hips eagerly, uttering a “yes, yes- fuck Morgan, finally” a comment that made Arthur want to slow down again, but by this point he was painfully desperate and couldn’t slow down if he tried.

It wasn’t very dignified, desperately rutting against another man behind the wagon in a dark part of camp, about to soil your own pants with your spend, but it was what he needed, what he craved at that moment, and he found he couldn’t give less of a damn. The hand that had been against Sean’s arse flies to cover his mouth, the Irishman’s eyebrows furrowing and twisting as he wriggles under the weight of Arthur and the talent of his hand. Sean’s close, his desperate bucking tells Arthur as much. He leans forward, mouth next to his ear, when he speaks his voice is low and rough, and he can see the way Sean grows even more flushed, his skin ridging with goose-bumps and his chest heaving with deep, laborious breath. He begs into Arthurs hand, a hand grasping the one the brunet has wrapped around his cock, encouraging to go faster, guiding him to how he wants it.

All it takes is a careful twist and a bite to the junction between neck and shoulder, and Arthurs hand gets covered in thick white streaks, the brunet stroking him through his orgasm and then pressing hard against him to hold him upright as he then starts moving to reach his own peak. One of Sean’s hands, shaky and uncoordinated tries its damndest to help, weakly palming at the tent in Arthurs pants between thrusts, the movements more of a hindrance than a help, but it still did little to weaken the growing pressure in his pelvis and balls. It turned his skin hot and his muscles tense as it built and built until it could build no more. With a strained groan muffled by the meat of Sean’s shoulder, Arthur came, his pants quickly growing hot and wet with his spend, he’d have to privately wash them later, but he couldn’t stay annoyed at the notion, not when he felt like he was floating. He rest heavily against the slighter male, whom was still greedily gulping in lungful’s of air, looking like if Arthur moved he’d fall bonelessly to the ground.

Arthur only moves once he realises how uncomfortable his pants were becoming, carefully straightening his back and testing whether his legs were yet to stop acting like they were full of jelly. Sean is tucking himself back into his pants, a self-satisfied curl to his lips as he goes “you never were good at staying mad at me, Arthur Morgan” he hums, tempting a scowl onto the older man’s face, the bastard was right, and he knew it.

Sean stumbles off to re-join the group, acting as if he wasn’t just tugged off by Arthur Morgan of all people, and the brunet shuffles around and draws the curtains around his tent, quickly dressing into an unsoiled pair of undergarments. When he’s done he doesn’t leave, just lays back on his cot and basks in the light feeling of having just got off and the cheerful chatter of camp.

_“Soft and round like a pussy cat, a whole in the middle and split in two, that's what you call a ring-dang-doo”_

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on my [tumblr](https://hardleeharlee.tumblr.com/)


End file.
